Never

Chapter 20: Dreams

Thaddeus's POV:

Blue had always been my favorite color. Perhaps because for a few weeks after I turned, I couldn't see the sky and I missed it. The sun prevented me from going out until the tattoo on my back enchanted the rest of my skin to allow me out during the day. Or maybe I loved blue because once upon a time, my eyes were blue and the color reminded me of the person I could've been. A human with nothing spectacular about them.

It sounded peaceful.

It wasn't that the blue in my eyes was permanently gone, there were faint echoes of it if caught in the right light or looking close enough. Most the time they looked nearly black and when they didn't, they were blood red. A color there to remind me of what I was: a plague to humanity if I decided to be and a destruction of the person I used to be.

It wasn't that I remembered a lot about that person. At this point in my life, I remembered so little of being human that it was as if the experience never took place. I wanted to remember. I wanted those moments of euphoria along with the moments of agony and everything in between. I wanted anything that reminded me what it was like to be human.

That was why in life, I sought out humanity in all its glorious imperfection.

Perfection was boring, at least in regards to the way society viewed it. Society's perfection was an unreasonable ideal people couldn't help but attempt to achieve. Perfection in regards to their health, their appearance, their relationships, their occupations, their hobbies and personal growth. It was an honorable attempt I had no problem with, but the truth was no one could ever reach perfection and few people were content with just doing their best. They had to be perfect, even if that definition was vague at best.

It was impossible for anyone, even vampires. We were considered physically perfect but I would argue never producing warmth was a flaw. I would argue needing to take life-source from another person to survive was a flaw. It was an image of perfection, not actual perfection. When it came down to it, that's all anyone was capable of achieving. An illusion of perfection.

I'd spent too much time around illusions of perfection, and that's why my strongest allies were people Kristoff considered unhinged. They were gloriously imperfect, and they reveled in it. They didn't hide behind illusions or try to convince you they were more than what they were. They just faced you with all their scars and destruction, unafraid to claim this was who they were.

To me, that was the only real form of perfection. Not the one society taught us to believe, but one that was actually achievable. A perfection you could find every day if you were willing to look for it. It was why I longed to know the motivation behind people's actions. Why knowledge was the most powerful weapon. Understanding people made you an expert on what they would do next.

It also grounded me to my humanity and that was why I craved it to begin with. It was all I had besides the color blue.

It was why, I reasoned, it drove me insane Winter wouldn't reveal anything of use. It was why, I reasoned, that when I fell asleep thinking of the color blue and all the attachments I had to it, her icy eyes were what showed up in my subconscious state.

Her nearly white hair tickled against my skin as her head moved back and forth, her mouth a welcome warmth to the cold I was used to. The sensation of her mouth on me was good enough I could've sunk further into the bed and closed my eyes, but I wanted to see her. I wanted to see the ice in her eyes, a representation of the coldness in her heart that kept anyone from reaching her.

She wasn't bare to me, she never was. She would only give small pieces, not enough to get even an idea of the whole picture and it was no different here. The black lace underwear were a stark contrast to her pale skin and matched the loose, silky tank top I'd seen her wear under a jacket so many times.